


Love Bite

by theorchardofbones



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Awkward Experimentation, Experienced!Prompto, First Time, Hickeys, M/M, Prompto and Noct are in school but both 18, Virgin!Noct, blowjob, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22185865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorchardofbones/pseuds/theorchardofbones
Summary: Written forthisancient kinkmeme prompt!Noctis getting curious about hickeys since he never had one and Prompto teaching him and giving him one (or more).Bonus point if Noctis is /really/ into it.(Up to you if they stop there or not)
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 24
Kudos: 226





	Love Bite

**Author's Note:**

> This fic features the Chocobros in school uniforms, but they're both of legal age.

It’s hard not to stare, even though Noct is trying — it’s just  _ right there, _ like Prompto isn’t even trying to hide it.

To be fair, he probably couldn’t if he tried. It’s high above his collar, big and shaped like an imperfect heart, the colour of a bruised peach.  _ A hickey. _ So that explains why Prompto didn’t respond to his texts last night.

‘Is it really bad?’

Prompto claps a hand self-consciously to his neck, his cheeks turning pink, but there’s a glint in his eyes like he’s  _ glad _ for the attention. Noct never really thought him the type to like it.

‘It’s pretty bad,’ Noct admits. ‘Didn’t your parents go ballistic?’

Prompto shrugs carelessly. His hand drops, and he lunges across the bed to grab his phone.

‘They weren’t home,’ he says, using the screen of his phone like a mirror to get a look at his neck. ‘What are they gonna say, anyways? They know I’m not a virgin.’

Noct shifts uncomfortably. It’s not like it’s a big  _ secret _ that he’s inexperienced — he just doesn’t like to talk about it. He’s had a couple girlfriends, but they hadn’t really gone past hand-holding before they realised that actually, dating the prince of Lucis wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Even when he  _ had _ gone as far as kissing somebody, it’d felt gross and weird, like a wet fish was flapping around inside his mouth. Maybe some people  _ like _ that, but he’s not one of them.

He’s never really been bothered about being a virgin, but when Prompto strolls into school holding hands with some girl, or Noct spots him on the grounds in some barely-concealed spot with his tongue down a different girl’s throat, Noct can’t quite help the little pang of envy.

Clearing his throat, Noct turns his gaze down to his textbook and tries to ignore the heat crawling up his collar. He doesn’t even  _ want _ to fool around with girls, so what’s he got to be jealous about?

_ ‘Q equals m Delta… _ Man, I don’t even get why we need to learn this stuff. It’s not like we’ll need it after we graduate, right?’

With a dramatic sigh, Prompto flops back on the bed.

A pale sliver of skin catches Noct’s eye, where his friend’s shirt rides up. Just beside the jut of his hip, there’s another mark — a dark contusion, disappearing below the band of his pants.

Heat scalds Noct’s cheeks and he looks away hurriedly, but not before Prompto’s eye catches his.

‘Ohhhhh yeahhhhh.’

Grinning sheepishly, Prompto pulls his shirt down. When he lies back, head nestled in his hands, his shirt just rolls straight back up.

It’s almost impossible for Noct to keep his eyes on his book, but he manages — somehow — even though it feels like that bruise on Prompto’s hip is just  _ begging _ for him to look.

‘How ‘bout we take a break?’

Prompto shoots a longing look over to the big TV in the corner. It’s hard enough to keep his attention on schoolwork as it is. Maybe having the temptation of video games so close by was such a bad idea.

It’s not like Noct can really concentrate, either. Not when his brain keeps switching back to Prompto’s hickey — specifically the one by his hip — and how, exactly, he must’ve gotten it.

Dangerous territory. Maybe a distraction would be a good idea.

‘Sure,’ he sighs, already tossing his book aside. ‘Not like we’re getting anything done.’

Fifteen minutes later they’re in  _ Nitro XL, _ exchanging witty quips as they overtake each other. It’s good to have the bright colours and pounding music to fill Noct’s head.

It isn’t long before he goes into cruise control. They’ve done this race hundreds of times, so often that Noct barely has to concentrate to get into the zone. Soon his thoughts are wandering again, and instead of the neon lights of the game it’s an image of Prompto plastered across his mind, sprawled out on his back with some girl between his legs.

She’s tugging at his belt with one hand while the other holds his waist, and her mouth is at his hip — and Prompto’s head is thrown back, his mouth slack with pleasure.

Noct’s car crashes into a wall, promptly exploding into flames, and with a guilty rush he puts the image far from his mind.

‘Getting sloppy, dude,’ Prompto teases. ‘All that studying must’ve rotted your brain.’

‘Yeah. Must’ve.’

Noct’s car resets on the track, and he forces himself back into the zone. He’s already losing by a long way, so it seems pointless to call it anything other than what it is — but he’s never been one to rage-quit, so he keeps it up, even though Prompto’s won long before he crosses the finish line.

‘Another?’

Prompto’s easy and breezy, not a care in the world. Good thing he can’t see into Noct’s head, or maybe it’d be enough to knock the smile from his face.

Noct shrugs and hits the button to continue, but he’s not even into it any more. Flashes of his earlier daydream keep popping into his head unbidden. He feels guilty and sick, like he’s betraying Prompto somehow, and it only seems to get worse the more he tries to fight it.

‘What’s it… what’s it like?’ he finds himself asking, his eyes trained on the screen as if his life depends on it.

‘What’s what like?’

Okay. So Prompto isn’t going to make this easy — but maybe there  _ is _ no ‘making it easy’.

Noct wets his lips. It’s harmless, right? Just… natural curiosity. He’s never even touched a girl under her shirt, so it’s normal to ask somebody more experienced than himself.

‘Getting a hickey.’

His eyes are locked on the screen, but out of the corner of his vision he can see Prompto glancing over at him. His heart picks up, his mouth going dry. He feels like he’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

‘I’unno. It’s nice, y’know?’

Prompto  _ sounds _ normal enough, but it feels like he’s gone rigid beside Noct. Maybe he  _ is _ weirded out.

‘Like…’

Prompto makes a little coughing sound to clear his throat. Shifts on the bed, tucking his legs underneath him.

‘It hurts a little, at first,’ he says. ‘And sometimes they bite too much and it’s awful. But when they do it right, it’s like…’

It takes Noct a little too long to realise that Prompto’s car has stopped moving on his half of the screen. 

‘It’s kinda hard to explain,’ Prompto says hurriedly.

When Noct looks at him, his cheeks are flushed. He won’t quite meet Noct’s eye.

‘I don’t know. I guess it’s not something you can really explain? It’s easier just to… show you.’

Noct’s hands are trembling so badly he can barely hold his controller. Prompto’s stopped, anyway, so he hits pause and sets his controller down, and tucks his hands under his legs to hide the shaking.

‘Show me?’

Prompto shrugs, a little too forcefully. He pushes his own controller a little down the bed and folds his arms over his front.

‘Well, yeah,’ he says. ‘You’ve never given one, have you? Maybe if I show you how, you’ll know how to do it when you… y’know.’

_ When I’m with someone else. _

Noct’s heart sinks somewhere into his stomach. Somehow, the thought of being with a girl  _ like that _ is worse than imagining Prompto with somebody.

And yet, as nauseating as that thought is, he finds himself nodding. If he’s going to  _ have to _ do it someday, he might as well get good at it first.

‘Okay. Okay!’

Prompto’s voice sounds too cheery somehow, like he’s putting it on. Maybe Noct’s just imagining it — Prompto wouldn’t have volunteered if he wasn’t looking out for him.

‘Okay. So.’

Prompto clambers onto his knees and moves in front of Noct. With him kneeling like that, ready for business, it only makes Noct’s mouth feel even more like cotton wool.

‘You should lay back,’ Prompto says, with a little laugh. ‘It’ll be easier that way.’

Silently, Noct does so, scooting himself down in the bed until he’s resting on his pillows. His lungs don’t seem to want to do what they’re told, and he has to consciously breathe — like his body’s forgotten how to just  _ be. _ He’s so intent on making himself inhale and exhale that he hardly notices Prompto moving closer — at least, until Prompto moves to straddle him.

He isn’t heavy, by any means; if anything, his weight is a comfortable pressure on Noct’s thighs. His cheeks are a rosy pink as he leans over Noct and offers a sheepish smile.

‘Tilt your head to the side,’ he says. ‘I mean. If you want to.’

_ If I want to. _ What a weird thought. All of this should be wrong, forbidden,  _ gross, _ and yet Noct finds himself aching for it.

Out of curiosity, of course. Anything else would be weird.

He has to think, for just a moment, of which side he wants Prompto to do it on. It needs to be low enough that he can hide it, but it’ll probably hurt when he has to wear the strap of his bookbag over it. Maybe the left side is a good idea, then.

He tilts his head to the right, reaching up to pull down the collar of his shirt. He looks up at Prompto through his eyelashes, and there’s a look on his friend’s face that he can’t quite comprehend — but it’s gone in a flash as Prompto leans in.

He gets close enough that Noct can smell his shampoo, and even though Noct must have smelled it dozens of times, this time it’s so  _ good _ he can’t help inhaling the scent of vanilla and honey.

The first time Prompto’s lips brush his throat, he almost jumps out of his skin. He mutters out an apology, and Prompto makes some sort of soft sound in reply but it’s lost against Noct’s throat.

His mouth closes over Noct’s skin, and for a little while Prompto just stays like that — but then after a moment there’s pressure, and just the slightest bit of discomfort as he sucks on Noct’s skin.

Noct expects it to end after that, but his friend keeps going. The pressure deepens, and intensifies, and it’s  _ just _ this side of pain — and whenever Noct thinks it’s going to hurt, Prompto lightens off a little. It actually feels  _ good, _ Noct realises, and as he lets himself relax into it, he finds himself filled with a pleasant warmth.

Only that warmth is starting to turn into  _ heat, _ and pretty soon it’s surging through him, from the point where Prompto’s lips are suctioned onto his skin and all the way downwards, between his legs.

_ Oh. _

That this-is-nice feeling is this-is- _ really _ -nice now, and he thinks maybe he should tell Prompto to stop but his mouth doesn’t seem to be working any more, and anyway he’s not sure he  _ wants _ Prompto to stop.

Prompto pulls away, just slightly; Noct can feel his breath huffing out against his skin.

‘Oh,’ Prompto says, his voice husky. ‘Hey there.’

With a lurch of supreme embarrassment, Noct knows what Prompto’s talking about — knows he can feel the bulge between Noct’s legs, digging into him where he sits in Noct’s lap.

‘S- sorry,’ Noct stutters out, heat crawling up his neck, up to the tops of his ears.

‘No, no! It’s okay. It’s natural, right?’

Prompto follows up with a laugh that sounds strained, too-bright, and when he climbs off of Noct his own pale skin is berry-red.

‘So, um. That’s how to give a hickey.’

He fidgets where he sits, twirling a strand of hair between his fingers. His gaze is trained downward at the bed cover.

A ball of nervous energy, Noct pushes himself up into a sitting position and pulls his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He wills his erection to go down, but every time he tries, the bruise on his neck will pulse ever so slightly and bring it all back.

‘Y’know.’

Prompto’s still looking stubbornly downward, still twirling his hair. His voice sounds weird and unnatural, like it’s not his own.

‘It’s one thing to  _ get _ a hickey, but you won’t know if you’re any good until you give one, right?’

Noct’s heart slams into his ribs. He knows he shouldn’t — knows things are already weird enough — but now that Prompto’s put the idea into his head, he know he won’t be able to get it out again.

‘A- are you sure? That wouldn’t be too weird?’

Prompto’s shoulders flop in an approximation of a shrug.

‘Nah, it’s cool. Lemme be your guinea pig.’

They swap positions — Prompto lays himself back on the other side of the bed, and when he finally lifts his glance to meet Noct’s he’s uncharacteristically shy.

_ Okay. I can do this. It’s just practice, right? _

Noct’s trembling again as he moves to sit by Prompto’s legs. He’d straddle his friend the same way that Prompto did, but with his dick refusing to behave he’s not so sure he trusts himself. He opts for kneeling beside Prompto, and when Prompto closes his eyes and tips his head to the side, he realises this side of his friend’s neck is unmarked, like a blank canvas.

Waiting for him.

Noct swallows in a vain effort at dislodging the lump from his throat. He hopes Prompto won’t be able to tell how dry his mouth is.

‘Start out slow,’ Prompto murmurs. ‘Like you’re sucking a straw. Kinda.’

With that dubious advice, Noct leans in. The smell of Prompto’s shampoo is almost overwhelming now, and Noct tries to focus on it rather than on the throbbing between his legs. It’s not so bad here, when he can’t see Prompto’s face — he can just pretend this is one of the pretty girls at school, with their silky hair and their creamy skin.

He touches his lips to Prompto’s neck, and it’s softer than he would’ve thought, and warm. His dick pulses.

_ Just one of the girls, _ he tells himself.  _ Aurelia, or Clara, or Selena… _

This  _ isn’t _ one of the girls, though, and when he sucks tentatively at Prompto’s skin, his friend’s unmistakable voice huffs out in a sigh.

‘Yeah,’ Prompto whispers. ‘Like that.’

Noct’s worried about hurting him, but it’s not so bad when he watches for Prompto’s cues — like when he goes a little too hard and Prompto tenses, or when he eases off and Prompto’s shoulder sags.

Noct’s mouth is filled with the faint salt of Prompto’s skin, and it’s almost addictive. He chases it, opening his mouth wider to cover a bigger area, and almost in spite of himself his tongue darts out to lap at Prompto’s skin.

‘Noct…’

He worries, with a lurch, that he’s doing something wrong — but when he pulls away, Prompto’s mouth is hanging open in an  _ O _ of pleasure. His hands are gripping at the sheets, the fabric knotted between his fingers. Between his legs, enshrouded in the dark material of his slacks, is a very pronounced bulge.

Prompto’s eyes open just as Noct forces his stare back up to his friend’s face. He wants to apologise — for going too far, for making things weird — but the words won’t come out.

He’s shaking like a leaf. His dick’s throbbing so hard he feels like he’ll lose his mind if he doesn’t touch himself.

‘Noct,’ Prompto says, his voice barely a whisper. ‘You don’t… You don’t have to stop.’

They shouldn’t be doing this. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place, and continuing would be a mistake — but even as these thoughts rush through Noct’s mind, he finds himself leaning in again.

He can see the mark he left on Prompto’s skin, paler than the one on the other side. This time, he resolves to leave a darker one.

He’s a little less tentative this time as he closes his lips over Prompto’s neck, and he lets his teeth graze his friend’s skin just gently before he begins to suck. He tells himself he’ll only go until Prompto tells him to stop, but he never does — and pretty soon there’s a big, round mark there, strawberry-red.

‘Again,’ Prompto says, and his voice sounds almost giddy. As giddy as Noct feels.

He’s starting to run out of space, so Noct pulls at the collar of Prompto’s shirt, pulling it down to expose his collarbone. He picks a spot just above it, on the slope of his shoulder, and sets to work.

This time, Prompto outright  _ groans, _ and Noct’s cock is helpless to resist as it responds with a throb. He lets it tell him where to go, what to do — follows it as he sucks another contusion into Prompto’s skin.

A tentative hand touches his thigh; Prompto’s fingertips smooth across his leg, and upwards, until they brush over his dick. For just a fraction of a second he wonders if this is the point of no return, before he finds himself pushing into Prompto’s touch.

There’s the faintest sound of a zipper being pulled, and then Prompto’s fingers slip into Noct’s pants. Through the barrier of his boxer-briefs Prompto takes hold of him, stroking up and down his length.

This isn’t like jerking off. Isn’t like rubbing it off while some awful, contrived porno plays in the background. It’s like Noct’s skin is on fire under Prompto’s touch, and the need’s pulsing through him like waves of static.

Prompto’s thumb strokes over the head of Noct’s dick; Noct can feel the damp patch on his underwear, feel the slickness under Prompto’s touch as he roves his thumb over Noct’s slit. He groans into Prompto’s neck, and he’s too far gone to care if he should be embarrassed.

‘Hey.’

Prompto pulls away. Noct looks up at him blankly, like he’s forgotten how to function. He watches as his friend lifts his hand to his mouth, sucking at the tip of his thumb — at the pre-cum beaded on the pad of it — as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

‘Lie back,’ Prompto says, nodding his head toward Noct’s pillow.

Noct can’t talk, or think, but at least his body can still move as he lowers himself back onto the bed. His heart’s somewhere in his throat as he watches Prompto move to straddle him, and as Prompto leans in close he finds himself arching up in answer, entirely on instinct.

Prompto’s mouth finds his, fitting perfectly against it; when his tongue darts between Noct’s lips, it’s no wet fish — it’s soft and coaxing, teasing its way into his mouth.

Prompto’s hands go to Noct’s tie, easing it open; he slips it free and tosses it aside. His fingers pop the buttons of Noct’s shirt with little difficulty, and he parts from the kiss only long enough to push it off of Noct’s shoulders.

It’s hot in here, and it only seems to get worse as Prompto sheds layers of Noct’s clothing. Prompto’s lips are burning hot as they crest against Noct’s, again and again, as inevitable as the tide.

Prompto seems reluctant to break from their kisses for very long as he undresses Noct; his gaze is smouldering as he pulls away to open up Noct’s belt, and he’s barely gotten Noct’s pants down his hips before he launches himself at Noct again, delving a hand into Noct’s hair.

His other hand slips under the elastic of Noct’s underwear, fingers wrapping around his cock. He strokes over it rhythmically, and Noct can’t be sure if Prompto’s the one panting into their kiss, or if it’s  _ him. _

Prompto breaks away again, and Noct almost whines in disappointment — but with a dark look in his eyes, Prompto crawls back down the bed until he’s leaning over Noct’s crotch, and with a teasing smirk he peels Noct’s underwear down over his dick.

‘Is this okay?’ Prompto asks, taking hold of the base of his cock.

When Noct gives a feverish nod — he’s not even sure he could speak now, if he tried — his friend closes his eyes and leans down, taking the head of Noct’s cock into his mouth.

It’s wet and warm, and if the kisses had been  _ good _ this is  _ heavenly _ as Prompto’s tongue flutters over his slit.

It feels like it’s all just some fever dream as Noct lies there and watches Prompto go, bobbing his head slowly up and down as he moves to take Noct’s cock. His uniform’s all crumpled, the collar still dishevelled from where Noct pulled it aside — he can see the hickeys on his friend’s skin and it gives him an unholy thrill of pleasure to know  _ he _ put them there.

Noct knows Prompto has been with girls before, but this — it’s like Prompto knows exactly what to do, how fast to go, just when to slack off. Noct wonders, sluggishly, if his friend has been with other guys before. Wonders if Prompto’s ever thought of  _ him _ that way.

It’s not like Noct has ever imagined finding himself in this position with Prompto, of all people; he’d always figured that maybe sex would  _ always _ feel bad; that maybe he just wasn’t into it. He’d been a captive audience whenever Prompto regaled him with his carnal escapades, but that had been different. Hearing about it from his friend had always made sex seem like something that was supposed to be pleasurable, not awkward.

And now here they are, and all those things Prompto said sex was supposed to be — Noct’s feeling them, at his friend’s hand (or mouth, but what’s the difference) and he can’t imagine sex ever being  _ bad _ with Prompto.

He moves his hand to Prompto’s hair, threading his fingers through it like he’s always seen them do in movies — and Prompto moans softly, his voice rumbling against Noct’s cock, only adding to the sensation of his lips and tongue sliding rhythmically over him. Noct gives a gentle, experimental tug on the blond strands, and Prompto makes a choked sound of pleasure that goes right through Noct’s core.

When that tightness comes in — that irresistible pull of pleasure — Noct knows he’s close. He mumbles out a warning that might be gibberish for all he knows, but Prompto keeps going,  _ speeds up, _ and Noct can’t stop, doesn’t  _ want _ to stop— 

A groan slips free of his lips, a choked, feral sort of sound; it tapers off into a whimper as the world goes white. Distantly, he can feel Prompto’s hand stroking over his length, milking him.

Noct’s shoulders sag. Boneless, he sinks into the bed underneath him. Through heavy eyelids he watches Prompto sit up and wipe a hand across his mouth. He swallowed, Noct realises.  _ His _ cum. It’s filthy and dirty, and even in a haze of exhaustion Noct can’t help but decide he  _ loves _ it.

‘So.’

Prompto flops onto his stomach beside him. He wets his lips as he looks up at Noct, and Noct wonders if his mouth still tastes of — of  _ him. _

‘Should we go back to studying?’ Prompto says. ‘Or…’

If this is a vote, Noct picks  _ or. _

Still, as forward as Prompto had been — and considering what just happened between them — Noct finds himself painfully shy at the thought of suggesting he do the same for his friend. He’s never even touched a  _ girl _ like that, let alone a guy. He wouldn’t even know how to ask.

‘It’s okay, man,’ Prompto says breezily. ‘You don’t have to do anything. It was just… fun to do it to you.’

Somewhere, deep in his throat, Noct finds his voice again.

‘I want to,’ he says timidly. ‘I mean… If you’d let me.’

Prompto gives a nod like it’s lunchtime and they’ve just picked someplace to go. With more energy than Noct could possibly muster, he hops up onto his knees and crawls over to his Noct’s side.

‘I know you’ve never, like…’

Prompto shrugs, pulling at his tie and discarding it off the bed. He unbuttons his shirt while he speaks, and Noct guiltily watches as he exposes his freckled chest, little by little.

‘...Never  _ done _ stuff like this before,’ Prompto finishes. ‘But it’s cool, we can take it slow.’

He tosses his shirt aside and goes for his belt next. Noct wonders how he can be so casual, so  _ cool, _ in the midst of all of this.

‘It’s just like jerking off,’ Prompto remarks. ‘You’ll get the hang of it pretty fast.’

Once he’s got his fly open, he lays himself down on his side, alongside Noct; for a moment he seems suddenly self-conscious, but he brushes it off with a giggle.

‘You  _ do  _ know how to jerk it, right?’

Heat explodes across Noct’s face. Of  _ course _ he does, but it seems so weird to talk about it — even more so, after what Prompto just did for him. Masturbation has always seemed like some dirty little secret, something that everybody does but never talks about.

‘Yeah, I know how,’ Noct mumbles, looking away.

Prompto’s hand cups his cheek, pulling Noct’s gaze back to him. Noct’s already so embarrassed he could die, but somehow Prompto makes it a little easier with the kind smile across his lips.

‘So,’ Prompto says, moving to take hold of Noct’s hand. ‘If you’ve got any doubts, now’s the time.’

He’s giving an out, Noct realises. They still haven’t gone so far that they can’t turn back. To Noct, though, that seems like a paradox — how can they have come this far without seeing it all the way through?

He shakes his head, wordlessly.

With a nod, Prompto guides his hand down. He lets go; his gaze turns downwards, where he fumbles with his pants and his underwear, lifting his hips up just enough to slide them down.

Noct’s mouth hangs open as he watches Prompto’s dick spring free. Watches his friend give a slow stroke of it, smoothing the foreskin downwards to reveal the petal-pink head of it, glistening wet.

‘It’s okay,’ Prompto says, his voice thick. ‘You can touch me…’

Noct’s hand is a traitor, shaking almost uncontrollably as he reaches down. He goes for the head first, smoothing his thumb over Prompto’s slit to gather up a bead of precum — and then, as Prompto did before, lifts it to his own mouth.

It tastes salty and sweet all at once, like the sweat of Prompto’s skin, like nothing Noct’s ever tasted before.

‘Oh, fuck.’

Prompto’s awestruck whisper drags Noct’s gaze up to his friend’s face; Prompto’s eyes are wide, his mouth hanging open in surprise. Before Noct can react, Prompto’s leaning in, pulling him into a flurry of heated kisses.

It feels natural as Noct reaches down again, closing his fingers around Prompto’s dick. He feels Prompto’s hand cover his own for a while, guiding its motion; pretty soon, Noct has the hang of it.

Jerking off, for Noct, has always been about fulfilling a function — doing it as quickly, and efficiently, as possible. With Prompto, he finds himself wanting to drag it out: to tease him. When he hears the soft sigh of pleasure from his friend, the sound is like music to his ears, and he resolves to coax a few more of those noises from him before the deed is done.

His hand is messy and slick, already coated in pre-cum; he smoothes his fingers over the head of Prompto’s cock to gather up more. Prompto’s kisses seem to grow more urgent whenever he does this, so he comes back a few times to do it again before stroking his hand downwards again, all the way to the base.

Noct’s dick is soft, aching almost uncomfortably, but he can feel it stirring already, aching for Prompto’s touch.

‘Faster,’ Prompto says, his voice frantic against Noct’s lips. ‘I’m close.’

Those two words are tantalising — the holy grail on the horizon. Noct wonders what Prompto looks like when he comes. He realises, deliriously, that he’s about to find out.

Prompto’s kisses get sloppy, frantic, the closer he gets. He’s whining into Noct’s lips, high-pitched and desperate, and his hand clutches at Noct’s arm like he’s terrified Noct will stop.

Noct doesn’t — only speeds up, until Prompto’s suddenly arching against him, a yelp choking past his lips. He throws his head back, his eyes screwed shut in pleasure; his lips are red and swollen. His cum spurts over Noct’s fingers, seeping down his hand, and he doesn’t care — just keeps going, until Prompto’s twitching and juddering finally stops.

There’s a moment where both of them seem afraid to move. As if now, reality’s starting to seep back in. They can’t call it the heat of the moment any more, not now that the adrenaline is dying down.

But Prompto’s all soft, bashful smiles as he leans forward and pecks Noct on the lips. He’s not embarrassed — not shameful. Whatever this was, whatever happenstance led to it, he doesn’t regret it.

Neither does Noct.

‘Okay. Holy shit. Okay.’

Prompto huffs out a little chuckle and sits back, pushing his hair out of his face. His eyes are all glazed over, like he’s still blissed out.

‘We should probably clean this up,’ he says. ‘You got any… uh…’

Noct looks at him blankly for a moment before he realises what Prompto’s getting at — there’s too much mess between the two of them to ignore. Carefully, he slips his hand free of Prompto’s dick and shuffles over to the edge of the bed, grabbing a generous wad of tissue. He tosses it over to Prompto, and grabs some more for himself.

If this were Noct getting off alone, right around now would be the moment the emptiness set in — the sick feeling of guilt and shame. As he sinks into the bed at Prompto’s side and zips his fly back up, though, there’s nothing but warmth in his chest.

‘So.’

Cleaned up to his satisfaction, Prompto rolls onto his front and rests his weight on Noct’s chest, looking up at him with doe eyes. Lazily, absent-mindedly almost, he strokes his fingertips across Noct’s lips.

This should feel weird, shouldn’t it?

So why doesn’t it?

Noct doesn’t know why he does it. It’s almost an instinct — one minute Prompto’s looking up at him expectantly, the next Noct’s kissing his fingertips where they stroke over his lips. When Prompto smiles in response, nose crinkling, Noct’s heart feels so full it almost hurts.

‘So,’ Noct says. ‘That was… a thing.’

Prompto snorts.

‘It sure was.’

With a sigh, he pulls away, slipping off the bed. As he hunts around on the floor for their discarded clothes, Noct wishes his weight were still on the bed beside him.

Maybe it  _ is _ weird. Maybe Prompto regrets it, and he’s just good at hiding it — he’s always been a pro at putting on a brave face. Noct’s heart sinks a little at the thought that maybe this has changed things between them; that after what they just did, they can’t go back.

His stomach churns as he watches Prompto pull his shirt on; wants to ask if they’re still okay, but his tongue is leaden in his mouth.

‘So, what now?’ Prompto says brightly. With his back turned, Noct can’t tell if his face matches the lightness of his voice.

_ What now? _ is right. Where do they go from here?

‘I… I don’t know.’

‘Well.’

Prompto turns to look over his shoulder. Some of the heat has died down from his face, but his cheeks are still a delicate pink.

‘I say we go out and grab a bite.’

He moves then, crawling across the bed. He doesn’t stop until he’s kneeling right in front of Noct, their noses close enough to touch.

‘And then,’ he says slyly, ‘maybe we could do that again? If you want to.’

Inside Noct’s chest, his heart sings.

‘Yeah.’

With some reserve of courage he didn’t know he had, he lifts his hand and strokes it through Prompto’s hair. His friend sinks into his touch, almost like he can’t help himself.

‘I’d like that a lot.’


End file.
